


as the blue bird sings

by thenewhope



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-06
Updated: 2006-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenewhope/pseuds/thenewhope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate would understand this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as the blue bird sings

**Author's Note:**

> for verstehen as part of Fem Gen Ficathon 2006. set in the quiet places between season two's "SWAK" and "Mind Games."

*  
The bullpen had been quiet this morning when Abby stopped by on her way downstairs. It'd been bustling with the normal activity of a Thursday morning. But it had felt a little darker than usual, like one of the overhead fluorescents had fizzed out.

From what she'd seen, Gibbs' mood had been in much the same state.

She doesn't blame Tim and Kate for wanting to get away from that. She even enjoys their company. It's making her miss Tony a little less.

She just wishes they'd get a clue and stop chatting at her. And maybe follow her example and start working on some of their own work.

Have they forgotten the part where moody-Gibbs often equals head slaps and barked orders? Or, well. Gibbs usually saves the head slaps for Tony. But he does bark orders at them quiet often. Sometimes he even glowers.

Really, it's in their own best interest to leave her alone.

Maybe if she turns her music up _really_ loud they'll get it.

"Did someone reassign you to the lab and not tell me?"

Or that could work too.

Abby tries not to laugh as she watches Kate and Tim spin to face Gibbs.

"No, Boss?" Abby doubts Gibbs was actually looking for an answer, but Tim gives him one any way.

"Have these two let you get _any_ work done?"

Abby grabs the Caff Pow Gibbs offers her and smiles. Unlike a certain two field agents she knows, she is always prepared for unscheduled Gibbs appearances.

*  
"I brought the baby carrots you asked for." Tim says as he kicks Abby's apartment door closed behind him. He shifts his backpack off his shoulder, onto the kitchen counter.

Abby grabs the bag and kisses his cheek in thanks. His skin is soft with day old stubble and he smells like shampoo.

It makes her want to kiss him again.

He leans past her and pears into the large pot she has simmering on a back burner.

"Mmm, chicken soup." He plops the lid back down and turns to rest his hip against the edge of the counter. "You in the mood for comfort food today?"

"God, no." Abby shudders. "It's way too hot out for soup today."

"Then why are you making it?"

"_We_ are making chicken soup for Tony, duh." She pokes him in the stomach with a baby carrot and pops it into her mouth before he can grab it from her.

"Ah." Tim says in that tone he has that means he's not totally sure what she's up to, but he's going to go along with it any way. Abby likes that tone.

"We're going to see him before the movie." She explains and hands him her big chef's knife. "Now, cut this celery. And try to avoid getting any bits of finger in with it."

A carrot comes flying at her head. She catches it in her mouth and smiles.

*  
"Here, let me help you with that." Jimmy takes the stack of vinyl from the top of the record player and smiles at her. He hits the button for the sub-basement.

Abby ducks her head in thanks and shifts her grip on the heavy player. She can't quite manage to return his smile.

"Jazz?"

His voice catches Abby off-guard. He looks up from the top album, stilling smiling lightly.

"Dirges." She says, not really caring if he knows what that means.

He does, though, and his eyes darken. The smile disappears. Abby thinks he's going to try to apologize, but the elevator doors open, saving them.

She puts the player down on the first patch of empty table she can find and takes the records from Jimmy.

She knows Kate would appreciate this. She always loved Abby's stories about growing up in Louisiana, about craw season and back porch jazz sessions and fireflies so big they looked like stars.

Abby once promised to take Kate back home sometime, to show her New Orleans and the Bayou and the little slice of heaven that lived there. They had never found a chance to do it, though.

And now both Kate and heaven are gone.

She can feel herself starting to cry again. "Thanks, Jimmy." She doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"Of course." He pushes up his glasses and smiles. It's a beat too long before he says, "See ya." and turns toward the door.

The record comes out of its jacket easily, smelling of dust and memories. It's an old _Dirty Dozen_ recording, the one Dad loved so much he played both sides every day for a whole summer even though no one in the family had passed.

It fits smooth onto the table and the needle slides easy into a groove like something coming home after a long time gone.

Abby leaves it like that for a moment, and lets the silence push her into a chair. She's not quite ready yet. Not ready for it to be true, for Kate to be gone.

It's easier to pretend in the silence.

*  
Abby is skipping church this morning.

She has a good excuse. Their flight back from Kate's funeral didn't land til three in the morning, and she'd been too wiped out to chug a Red Bull and stay up til church started at nine.

Even still, her inner Sunday School teacher is laying on the guilt trip pretty thick, and there have been a few moments where she almost caved and grabbed her dress.

She's held out though and is still in her pjs, the ones with little pirate duckies that Kate got for her last Christmas. She's been staring into the well-lit cavern of her fridge for a while now, trying to figure out if she should make breakfast or go back to bed.

It just doesn't feel like a Sunday.

Kate would understand this, though. And that, she thinks, is what should matter today.

A knock on the door saves her from going for the left over cake Mrs. Todd sent back with her after the wake last night.

"I brought some baby carrots." Tim says, by way of greeting, and holds up the grocery bag in his hand. He shrugs, and his smile is the same sad one Abby's been wearing for a week now. "I thought..."

Sometimes Tim knows what she wants even before she does. Abby doesn't know how he does it, but it's enough that he does.

She grabs the bag from him and grins, real and big and happy. "Soup would be perfect."

*

**Author's Note:**

> the band Abby references is The Dirty Dozen Brass Band, one of the all time great jazz groups. title is borrowed from A Whisper In The Noise.


End file.
